Trajik - My Truth (feat. Skypp)

Y'all don't mind if I keep it real with y'all
one time do you ?
Y'all my niggas right ?
Wish I could be happy like the others
Everyday I'm disguising my troubles
I smile when I'm frowning inside
Staying afloat but I'm drowning inside
Just my luck feel like ain't shit goin right
Wish my family wasn't so damn dysfunctional
Wish my bitch could actually be punctual
If you ain't early then you late
If you ain't crooked then you straight
Make no mistake Karma determines your fate
I rather die in my sleep
Don't want to die in these streets
Plus dying ain't cheap
Can't afford it
How mama gon pay her mortgage
Family in debt ain't even wept
Dealing with the stress
Ain't had a chance to grieve
I look to my seeds
For all the strength that I need
Then I can see love is real
No matter how I feel about the ills
Of a nigga or a bitch
Cause I been through some shit
Still ain't a stain on me
Not on my name homie
I kept it real through all the ordeals
Back and forth from court still
I Need to sit my black ass down
But I got no chill
I'm tryna get some more bills
This shit ain't working
Cause I feel poor still
No matter how many ropes
How many chains that I buy
How many stacks that I flash
Or fancy cars that I drive
It's all a disguise
For some reason
I feel empty inside
Jus tryna find a meaning in life
Gotta stop believing the hype
It's more to it then show biz
Cut the tv off and go live
I heard the best things in life are free
Like witnessing your first born be born
Or taking its first breath
Or witnessing your first born takin it's first steps
This my truth
Trajik what up
Yeah
Yeah
Failed hella times
Calls comin on this cell of mine
Makin sales
We all living on felon time
Gave my niggas hella time
He like I'm writing from this cell of mine
Racing the clock
But I'm failing time
Piss poor
Looking for a lick all ways
Big stick
keep it on ya hip always
It was all good
In them school hallways
Graduated then life got real
We all prayed
Cause my momma stressed out
I ain't keep my word
Still in projects
Dodging the pyrex
Feel like I still got a chance
I ain't died yet
They don't value loyalty and love
Just objects
Cuz whippin on the stove
That nigga a top chef
Turn 2 to a 4
His dope and guap stretch
I was fuckin with the fentanyl
Living raw
Get it on til I get it off
Soul really gettin lost
I ain't really feelin this
They gon dip when I fall
Ain't no script in this life
They gon click when you call
Dark in those prison stripes
Gave him life in them walls
Non violent drug case
Caught him with a ounce of dog
Shit wicked in the home of the free
Good nigga but he grew to be a G
That's what the ghetto do to us
It ain't sweet
So we write this shit down
And lay it down over beats
My truth

Written by:
Byron Horton, Donovan Short

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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